


Of Beaches and Brothers

by doilycoffin



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beaches, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/pseuds/doilycoffin
Summary: Dean never fully expected that he would live to see retirement, and he definitely didn't expect that someone would throw him the keys to a fancy beach house that he and Sam could grow old in. He's not exactly unhappy about it though.Especially since Sam prefers to do his sunbathing in the nude.





	Of Beaches and Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: retiring at the beach

Sam's shoulder looked like it might be dislocated and Dean nearly got himself drowned but, in the end, the massive, fuck-ugly sea serpent had been ganked, and Dean could see its thick, nearly black blood oozing into the ocean water like an oil spill. Most of its body was submerged into the ocean, but its massive head lay on the shore, mouth agape and showing off the steak knife sized teeth that had tore into five unfortunate swimmers over the past week or so. It would have been six if Sam hadn't been able to determine the creature's patterns well enough to give a well-educated guess about where it would strike next, and they only barely managed to to drag the would-be victim out of the ocean before he ended up as lunch. 

 

The man in question was staring at the dead serpent in wide eyed shock, and his hands trembled violently as he nervously ran his hand through his hair. 

 

"Holy shit, what _is_ that thing?" He demanded shakily, finally tearing his gaze away from the slain creature in order to look at Sam and Dean. 

 

"Uhh...a really big snake?" Dean tried. It wasn't technically a lie, but the man clearly wasn't buying it. 

 

"It's true," Sam corroborated. "We're special agents Hatchet and Bonham with the EPA and we believe that water contamination may have have led this water moccasin to develop some severe mutations." 

 

The man continued to look at them skeptically and Dean couldn't exactly blame him. Their drive the to the beach had been so frantic that they hadn't even had time to put on their special agent get-up and jeans and flannel didn't exactly scream "federal government employee" to most people. Especially not to the guy who had a fancy house that was set on his very own private beach. Dean could have done without that last part; hopping over the fence that surrounded the perimeter of the property had been a real bitch. 

 

"Severe mutations," the man echoed. "Right." 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in annoyance. "Look, does it really matter? The only thing you got out of it were a few scratches and getting your swim trunks tore up," he said, gesturing at the battered swim trunks that probably looked significantly more trendy a mere half hour before instead of like someone tried to shove them into a paper shredder. "I'd just chalk this one up up in the win column and move on." 

 

The man looked down at his ruined swim wear and pinched one of the strips of tattered fabric between his fingers wistfully. "These trunks were hand embroidered in France and cost me 800."

 

"Dollars?!" 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, it turned out that the man was actually a pretty decent guy when he wasn't freaking out about nearly being sliced and diced by a pants-shittingly terrifying sea monster. Go figure. Sure, he was disgustingly rich and had a name to match (Cornelius Wellington,  _Jesus Christ_ ) but he was friendly enough to invite them inside for some criminally expensive whisky that made Dean nearly cry honest to god tears of happiness. 

 

When Sam tried to put him at ease about his near-death by assuring him that it seemed unlikely that any more souped up "water moccasins" were inhabiting the ocean and that he could go back into the water any time he felt like, Cornelius looked at Sam like he just told him to dive into an active volcano. 

 

"You must be nuts if you think I'm ever going to so much as dip my toe into the ocean again. Hell, I don't think I even want to be within a good half mile of any body of water again.  In fact," he paused, walking over to the kitchen counter and picking up a set of keys that he tossed to Dean, "you two might as well just take the whole damn house. I don't need it anymore." 

 

Sam blinked at him incredulously. "There's no way we can accept a  _house_  from you." 

 

"Why not? Just call it a thank you present for saving my life." 

 

"You know, a lot of people we've saved just took us out for a burger or something," Dean said dryly. "Giving your house away to two guys that you barely know is pretty nuts. You're probably not even thinking straight after what just happened." 

 

"I'll let you keep everything that's in the liquor cabinet and whisky cellar."

 

Dean slapped his hand over Sam's mouth before he could protest. 

 

"Deal." 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

If someone had told Dean when he was younger that he would one day spend months of the year in semi-retirement at the coastal Florida beachfront home that he owned, Dean would have laughed in their face. First at the idea of himself living long enough to do reach any level of retirement, semi or not. Secondly, at the idea of him ever spending long periods of time in Florida. And, thirdly, at the idea of himself ever owning a beach house at all.  _Maybe_  a beach shack, but even that was pretty aspirational. 

 

But somehow, that's what ended up happening. For a while, he and Sam would just make the occasional roadtrip to the house for a couple of weeks here and there during the summer but, eventually, they began spending winters there as well once the frigid Kansas weather began to make Dean's bone ache like nothing else. They still stayed in the bunker for part of the year since neither he or Sam could bring themselves to complete leave a place that had been their home for so long, but Dean had to admit that beach life suited him more than he thought it would. 

 

Of course, the sun part wasn't always so great since it wasn't long before he realized that laying on the beach turned him a lovely shade of lobster red in record time. Sam, meanwhile, had no such issue and Dean tried to resent him for it, but it was hard to stay illogically angry since he didn't actually mind the fact that Sam always insisted on being the one to personally slather Dean from head to toe with suntan lotion. Plus, Sam had become surprisingly inclined towards exhibitionism once he realized how secluded their part of the beach was and he strutted around on it without a stitch of clothing more often than not. Dean couldn't exactly complain about being able to watch Sam sunbathe in the nude (or swim in the nude. Or walk along the beach in the nude while giving Dean an excellent view of his pert ass), although sometimes he wanted to complain about the fact that it often led to him getting horny enough to convince Sam that they have ill-advised beach sex. 

 

The sex wasn't bad, exactly, because sex with Sam was always good on some level, no matter how awkward the location, but he could live without the part where he kept finding sand lodged in every crevice of his body for the next week. It was always fun to watch Sam shake improbable amounts of sand out of his hair though, and he was always in good mood afterwards, curling up next to Dean under their beach umbrella even while half-heartedly swearing that they would take it to their perfectly nice bedroom next time instead of rolling around on a beach towel. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

As much as Dean enjoyed making use of the beach house's fancy kitchen and its many amenities (three ovens!), nothing beat the good old fashioned art of grilling burgers on the beach, especially when there was company to enjoy them with. Cas and Jack weren't able to visit often since Jack had his own life now and was an accomplished hunter in his own right while Cas was often busy tending to whatever fresh bullshit was happening in  Heaven, but having them over always left Dean feeling like the gang was back together again and he was content to watch everyone mill around on the beach while he flipped burgers  and tossed back a beer. 

 

Cas was standing knee deep in the water, looking like he was either in peaceful contemplation or, equally likely, attempting to converse with some sea creature or another. He once claimed that the mind of a jellyfish was surprisingly enlightening and at this point, Dean knew better than to ask him to elaborate about something like that.

 

Jack, still so soft hearted even after years of being a hunter, was strolling along the shore line and picking up the occasional misfortunate crab or starfish that washed onto shore with the tide so he could fling them gently back into the ocean where they belonged, despite the fact that he knew that more of them would likely wash onto the shore later when no one would be around to give them a helpful nudge. 

 

Sam was currently emerging from the ocean, making a beeline for Dean and when he got close enough to the grill he flipped his wet hair out of his face and let a few droplets of water splash and sizzle on the grill just because he knew it annoyed him. Dean wanted to glare at him, but it was difficult not to admire his glistening, wet body instead. Then again, it was hard for Dean to avoid staring at him just in general; sometimes he thought it was unfair for Sam to be so... _Sam_. 

 

"See something you like?" Sam teased when he noticed Dean's focus on him. 

 

Dean exaggeratedly checked Sam out from bottom to top and let out a low whistle. "You're holding up pretty good for a dude in his mid forties, you know. Perky boobs and all," he said, flicking one of Sam's nipples for good measure as Sam laughed and tried to smack his hand away. 

 

"Yeah, yeah..." Sam grabbed a beer out of the cooler and stood to him, both quietly enjoying each other's company. He wondered if Sam was thinking about the same thing he was, about how he never imagined being able to one day live a life of leisure with his brother that didn't involve constantly looking over his shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. That they'd be able to do something as simple as end each night by drinking on the beach and watching the stars together without any lingering guilt or stress weighing them down. Judging by the soft, thoughtful expression on Sam's face, he probably was. 

 

And if Dean found it difficult to grill with one of his hands clasped in Sam's own, he didn't say a thing about it. 


End file.
